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Raise the Red Lantern
Friday, March 13, 1998 I had lunch today with D---, whom I first met up with in December. He's been reading this journal ever since, so he knew all about what's been happening. We talked about that, and about what he's been up to.
As part of my recovery program, I've been keeping busy. I knew that my favorite place, the Century Ballroom, was having a theme night tonight. They were having a dance where they asked everyone to dress in red, and they'd be playing songs -- all on the themes of food and sex! So I asked a bunch of people to come with me and keep me company. My former officemate Kris, his fiancée Johanna, and their friend Linda joined Tom Lawrence and me for dinner at Ayutthuya, a Thai restaurant close to the ballroom. I was tickled to see Tom standing on the corner in front of the restaurant, with a red shirt purchased at a local thrift store under his arm. He had said earlier that he had no red clothing and that red didn't look good on him -- something about it clashing with his pink skin tone -- but he kept up his good record of We had a good dinner, and walked over to the ballroom for the pre-dance lesson taught by Dave Atkinson, a new teacher for me. I didn't need the beginning lesson, particularly, but it's a good way to meet people whom one might dance with later. Kris, Johanna, and Linda had never done this kind of dancing before, but they made good progress, especially when not dancing with each other. It's tough for two beginners to try to dance together. During the lesson, Miss Veektoastia, a Cacophony friend, arrived, along with two friends of hers. I was thrilled to see her, and ashamed that I hadn't kept her informed of my last-minute dinner plans. I forgot because the dinner was arranged at work during the day, and I had her email at home. Tobin and Christina also arrived during that hour, along with my friend Jon Newman. (I almost automatically referred to him by just his email name there, which is common Microsoft practice.) This great turnout really touched me, but I didn't quite succeed in melding all these disparate groups into one, despite my efforts at arranging and introducing. The ballroom looked great, with red gels covering most of the lights, and about ninety percent of the crowd dressed in red. It was like being in a photographic darkroom! The color-coordination of attire lent a note of unreality to the proceedings, as if we have been costumed for a movie. One of the special events of the evening was to be a dance contest, covering the Lindy basics. I figured that Jon and I knew enough to get through this, so after asking him, I volunteered us. Hallie, who runs the ballroom and is my teacher, took us out in the hall to make sure we knew the steps she was going to put in the routine. Jon and I had a bit of trouble on a few steps, but we practiced them before the competition actually took place. Then Hallie took all four couples out in the hall again, and we ran through the steps several times. Finally, it was time! All four couples danced at once, and we went through the routine twice. It was amazingly fun, and I didn't mind being out on the floor almost alone. We didn't win, which was fine. I just wanted to participate. The other couples were much more experienced dancers than Jon and I. (The prize was two tickets to the dance that's being held next weekend, so that wasn't a major incentive. I'll go, or not; I can afford the ticket.) As I was sitting and recovering from this workout, Jeff, a member of Tom's beginning swing class a few months ago, came over and told me he admired my bravery! This made me think of the British political sitcom "Yes, Minister" where, when the politician made a bone-headed decision, the career civil servant would compliment his bravery and the pol immediately knew he was doing the wrong thing. Jeff said it was inspirational to see us up there. Jeff and I danced, and he did a new move, called the Turnstile. This move was created by one of my fellow classmates on Wednesday night in advanced/intermediate swing! Hallie liked it so much, she taught it to the beginning and intermediate swing classes she teaches on Thursday night! Tom and I finished off the dance by practicing all the Charleston variations that we've been learning at the Wednesday night dances.
As Tom and I were leaving the building, we met up with Wally Glenn on the sidewalk. He had been elsewhere earlier, but had specifically come by to see me even though he doesn't do swing dancing (yet!). I was totally pleased and touched! Tom went on home, and Wally and I went over to Cafe Paradisio to have a beverage. We talked about journal stuff and personal stuff, and not all about me. Wally is always fun to talk to, so when I had my fill of my sad stuff (that didn't take long) we talked about possibilities for his media empire, his shocking family background (but how did he grow up so apparently normal?) and future collisions of the Burningman, Cacophony and Fremont Arts Council universes. We went walking up the hill towards my place, and only when we were a few blocks away from the top of the hill did Wally say, "Gee, I should have just given you a ride home!" I laughed, because I didn't know he had his car with him down at Broadway. I would have taken him up on it! I offered to give him a ride back down the hill, but he'd none of it.
I really am so appreciative of my friends! To rally around someone who is having a heartache isn't the most fun thing in the world. Asking your friends to come dancing with you is an unusual coping strategy, but it works for me.
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